Route 289

The old blue chevy rounded the corner of the winding country road, the fresh autumn colors littering the pavement in front of her in swaths of orange, red, and yellow. The drive had been pleasant and relaxing.

Avery had never been this way, but the GPS had come up with this route as a shortcut so she decided to try it. She had always taken the interstate to get home but this time she was cutting through the small towns and the cow fields. It had been a long time since she had been home. Her father had begged her for the last year to come visit and she was tired of looking at the skyscraper horizon from her apartment complex in the city.

As she came out of a thick patch of evergreens she noticed an old red barn in the field to her right. It was quite dilapidated with its roof sagging in the middle, several boards missing from the sides, and one door hanging off at a sharp angle. She smiled.

The road kept winding on as she looked up at her phone screen to see that she had three miles until the next turn where she would turn off Route 289 and onto State Road 3. The song on the radio had just changed when a loud pop made her jump and jerk the wheel. The old chevy suddenly pulled hard to the right but she was able to keep it steady. She slowed down and pulled off the soft dirt shoulder.

She got out and and walked around the car to see that the back passenger tire had a blowout. She cussed and kicked the tire hard before walking back around. She took her phone off the dash and looked at the screen. No reception.

“Dammit,” she said again, rubbing her hand roughly through her dirty blond hair. She reached down and popped the trunk. Guess it was a good thing she knew how to do this. She walked to the back and took out her two suitcases putting them on the dirt beside her, before taking out the spare, lug wrench, and jack.

She bent down and positioned the jack under the axle, before putting the lug wrench on and cracking each nut, one by one. Just as she was beginning to lift the car, a beat up truck rounded the corner and began coming toward her. The truck pulled off the side of the road behind her and an old man hopped out, walking toward her with a slight limp.

“Got a flat, honey?” He asked amiably in a rough husky voice.

“Yes sir, I sure …” she began before everything went black.

***

“I won’t do it again, son,” a husky yet familiar voice came from her left, “This is the last one.”

“You will do it as long as I tell you to,” came a deeper voice.

Avery’s head was throbbing and she felt nauseous. She could hear a metallic clink close by but could not tell what was making the sound. She tried to speak but her mouth wouldn’t move. She could taste saliva and old cotton. A gag.

She opened her eyes but everything was a blur. A red and green blur. She felt her body being lifted and slammed into what felt like a metal bowl, chains wrapping around her roughly, clinking on the metal. She groaned and opened her eyes again. She was in a wheelbarrow, her legs hanging off the end and her arms chained to her sides. The old man was limping away in the distance, his gray hair sticking up at odd angles as if he had run his hands through it a hundred times.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the deeper voice came, “Nice to meet you.”

The voice came from behind her as she began to be pushed slowly toward the old red barn.